


The Dotted Line

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Matches After Midnight [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Butts, Desire, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Humor, Oral Sex, POV Lucifer, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, Smut, Underwear, fuckruary2020, not an ad for Target, tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: When they finally began dating, Lucifer was prepared to learn and fulfill all of Chloe's desires, no matter how boring. But nothing could prepare him for how hisowndesires bowl him over when he least expects it. Who knew polka dots could render the Devil so weak?
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Matches After Midnight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620778
Comments: 25
Kudos: 334





	The Dotted Line

**Author's Note:**

> For [Fuckruary 2020](https://freakyfebruary.tumblr.com/post/189113012894/freaky-february-rules)'s "Tease" prompt. Thanks to [ObliObla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla) for her eyes.
> 
> Also, PSA? Olive oil is used as a lubricant in this fic. You absolutely _can_ use olive oil (and many other oils, though not all) vaginally and rectally and in your vinaigrettes—humans have been using oils in these ways for a very long time—but it may cause irritation in some, especially if the oil isn't processed under strict quality standards, and you should **never use it with latex condoms**. If you want to know more about using olive oil as a lube, [see here](https://www.healthline.com/health/olive-oil-as-lube). Okay, sex ed's over. Enjoy the porn.

They'd been going at it for hours. This happened on occasion. Chloe would call Lucifer and, well, one thing would lead to another and the next thing he knew, he would be sitting at her kitchen table, poring over paperwork. Nine times out of ten, he thought it was a booty call. Six times out of ten, it wasn't. And yet, somehow, he never learned. 

Maze insisted he was pussy-whipped. She wasn't exactly one to talk, in his opinion, but he also wasn't above admitting she was probably right or that he didn't particularly mind. Even before Chloe, he had been all about fulfilling (mostly) women's desires, no matter how bizarre or ordinary. Not that he cared in the least, but he was banned for life from all Chuck E. Cheeses for a reason.

But even he had to admit today was bordering on offensive. He was _the Devil_ , and it was _Saturday_ , for crying out loud. The child—well, less child than snarky, impish teenager who had recently put a dent in his beloved Corvette—was at space camp for a _week_. As far as Lucifer was concerned, he and Chloe should barely be coming up for air from a hotel bed. Instead, here he sat, blearily scanning bank statements and business filings, his eyes and knob tragically dry. At least he had his bloody flask.

"Thanks for helping me," Chloe said suddenly, as if sensing his growing agitation, and she rested her hand atop his on the table. 

Like throwing a poor, randy dog a bone.

Before she could pull away, Lucifer flipped his hand and gripped her fingers. "How much longer do you plan on our doing this?"

She tilted her head. "I wanted to wrap this up tonight."

"Right," he said, nodding. "And what if we're still not finished by, say, eleven o'clock tonight?" 

"Uh...we have more work tomorrow?" she guessed, and bit the end of her ballpoint pen. 

He stared at the pen, jealous. Honestly, how _did_ he get here?

"Don't you want to do, I don't know, anything _fun_ this weekend, Detective? You remember fun, don't you? It's that thing you experience when you let yourself enjoy life? With me? Since I'm not _boring_?"

Chloe rolled her eyes and tugged her hand back. She flipped the pen away from her mouth to speak. "I was going to bake cookies tonight."

Lucifer stared at her. " _Riveting_. Shall I bring out the crocheting needles, too? When's bedtime, _seven o'clock_?"

Snorting, Chloe tossed a crunched up wad of paper at his head, which he dodged with ease. The paper bounced on the hardwood a short distance away. "This is an important case," she said.

"And your leisure time is important," he argued, nudging her knee with his under the table. "Think of all we could be _doing_ with your offspring gone. Think of all _I_ could be doing to _you_." He waggled his brows.

Glaring at him, Chloe drew her feet up onto the kitchen chair until she was hugging her knees. Her very bare knees. It was laundry day in the Decker household, and they were alone, which meant she was wearing one of his shirts...and no jeans at all. No. Jeans. He'd been working so hard—so _very_ hard—not to think about how she was bloody trouserless beneath the kitchen table, but now his eyes were glued to the expanse of skin she had revealed.

"If you don't want to help," Chloe said, "that's okay, but going through these financials will take twice as long for me to do alone." 

He stared at her. She had him, and she knew it. And she knew that _he_ knew it.

Lucifer's face lit up with an idea. "Tell you what, let's hash out a deal."

"Oh, Lucifer," she sighed, "you know I don't like making deals with you."

"Yes, yes, you 'don't think love should be based on a series of transactions,'" he quoted her, curling his fingers in the air. "I _remember_ your ludicrous argument."

"It wasn't ludicrous."

"Yes, well, agree to disagree. But do you want me to continue helping you or not, Detective?"

She stared at him. He had her, and he knew it. And he knew that _she_ knew it.

"Okay, fine." Exasperated, Chloe dropped her pen to the table. "What are your terms?"

"I'll do my devilish best to help you finish this"—he waved his hands at the scattered documents around them—"inconvenience to our Saturday _if_ I get to whisk you away to wherever I please for, say, five"—at her scowl, he amended—" _three_ days once we've solved the case?" He wagged a finger before she could protest. "And I know you have the vacation time. I checked not long ago."

Chloe opened her mouth then shut it firmly and narrowed her eyes. Now _she_ held up a finger. "No leaving the country."

"Of course." Really, did she have no idea how many islands that left him to choose from?

Her finger pointed at him. "And no island territories."

Damn. "Very well," he grouched, even as he was impressed she'd caught him out. Anyway, Hawaii wasn't an island _territory_.

"Okay," she said, holding out a hand, "we have a deal."

"A deal indeed." Grinning widely, he clutched her hand, and they shook on it.

Chloe picked up her pen and gently shoved his knee with her bare foot. "Get back to work, you slacker."

He snatched hold of her ankle and propped her bare calf across his leg. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

***

* * *

Two hours later, the dryer buzzed. Lucifer jolted to attention, scattering papers as his hands jerked across the table. 

Rising from her chair, Chloe touched his shoulder. "Did you fall asleep sitting up?" she chuckled.

"Just resting my eyes," he yawned as he blinked at long, shapely detective legs.

"Mm-hmm," she said, ruffling his hair as she passed, as if he didn't go to great lengths to make it look good _every_ morning. 

His eyes followed her swaying hips as she wandered into the extra bathroom nearby where the washer and dryer were located. He leaned back, all his weight falling onto two chair legs, which creaked in protest. She looked bloody amazing in his clothes. His shirt tails fell to her mid-thigh, and if she bent over—

_Oh, yes, exactly like that, Detective._

Chloe bent at the waist as she reached deep into the dryer, affording him the perfect view of navy cotton knickers with white polka dots. Lucifer licked his lips. Over the past several years, he'd bought her all manner of lingerie—babydolls, bustiers, teddies, and negligees; silk and lace and leather—and she wore it all (and destroyed him) to great effect, but cotton bikinis from Target, of all places, remained her go-to. He didn't honestly have a preference. A burlap sack, or nothing at all, would do her fine.

Or so he'd thought. Until, at some point, the cotton knickers had grown on him, especially this polka-dotted number. Because what it all boiled down to was comfort, the way her defenses slowly lowered, proving she really did trust him. And that meant a little less perfectly manufactured beauty, a little less concealer on the both of them—and the knickers from Target that she claimed fit her best.

Truly, these _did_ fit her best.

She squatted back on her heels, and the dots widened with the flexing of her hips. The dots were killing him, absolutely murdering the Devil. They ran right down the seam of her—

"Did you hear _anything_ I just said?"

With effort, Lucifer managed to turn his attention to her face, which had now popped above the open dryer door. "'Fraid not."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the dryer. "I asked what you wanted for dinner. We could order pizza or—"

Ah, his least favorite conversation in the world. "I could eat you," he offered.

Chloe's laughter echoed in the dryer's steel drum. A moment later, she rose with a basket that overflowed with clean, wrinkled clothing and towels. She kicked the dryer door shut with gusto and marched out of the bathroom. The swift movement sent the precarious pyramid of stacked clothes toppling sideways; underthings and washcloths spilled to the floor. Sighing, she set the basket down, squatted down once more, reaching for scattered items. 

"You could help, you know," she grouched, stretching out on all fours to grab the black sock which had fallen close to the sofa.

Lucifer grinned at her backside. "Oh, I don't know. I'm quite enjoying the view."

She froze in place and slowly, slowly looked over her shoulder at him, and for a moment all of Lucifer's clever flirtations slipped away as desire short-circuited his brain. That was the thing about being with Chloe. Because he couldn't read her desires, he was always working to please and seduce her, and in the process found himself sideswiped by his own desire in a way he never could have anticipated. Sometimes her seduction was accidental, a mere matter of being comfortably herself in his shirt and her polka dots on laundry day. Other times, like now, a high blush and a quick glance below his belt gave away that she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Do you wanna take a break?" she asked, her toes curling underneath her feet to grip the hardwood.

Well, he certainly was already maddeningly hard. "You know I never mind mixing pleasure with business."

After kicking off his shoes and socks, he went and sunk to his knees behind her. He stared at the breathtaking line of polka dots between her cheeks before allowing himself the pleasure of touch. Gripping her slender waist through the baggy edge of his shirt, he drew his hands down around the flare of her hips, then in, toward her round bottom. As far as Lucifer was concerned, poetry should be written about Chloe Decker's derrière. No Brazilian butt lift for the detective. She did squats and lunges with a medicine ball, one might say...religiously, or at least every other day. Her rear was one of raw, quarter-bouncing power. 

He squeezed her, and she arched her back like a cat, stretching polka dots.

"You are absurdly hot right now," Lucifer commented, thumbs sweeping the elastic edges.

"You really like these, don't you?" she laughed.

He breathed an affirmative as he began to wonder if she had played him from the very beginning of the day. He liked that there was no way of knowing. Chloe was a workaholic to a fault, but she could also be quite the wily temptress when she wanted, and when her own nerves didn't get the best of her.

Suddenly, she dropped her front half low to the floor. She rested her forehead against folded arms. "What about now?" she teased, ass stuck high in the air.

Bloody hell.

"Very nice." Nicest of all was what the new position revealed: the small, darkening patch of material hugging lips he wanted to kiss. "And what do we have here?" he asked, as his right hand drifted inward. He dragged his thumb along damp polka dots. "Someone hasn't been very focused on the case," he tsked, and pressed against her clit through the fabric.

Chloe exhaled loudly and pushed back against his hand. "I keep thinking about what you're going to do to me when we're done."

"I see," he hummed. "And now you want a little preview, do you?"

"Please," she whimpered.

"Hmm, I don't know," he said, thumb swiping up and down slowly. "We had a deal and all. Don't you think we should focus?"

Chloe huffed. "No."

"Well, if you say so, Detective."

He slid a finger between her skin and the elastic edge of her knickers to gently pull aside the crotch. She was all pink, shining flesh beneath, framed by a light dusting of soft brown hair. With a feather-light touch, he ran a forefinger down her middle, gently parting wet lips. He withdrew before his fingertip could brush where she most desired.

Chloe wriggled slightly. "You can tear them, if you want," she said.

Lucifer struggled not to laugh. Chloe, he had discovered over time, didn't mind a little bodice-ripping, sans the bodice. Usually he was more than happy to oblige—and replace items from her questionable wardrobe along the way—but these were special polka dots that lined up magically with what he considered the only Holy Land worth visiting.

"Darling, I would never," he said. 

After all, what if Target no longer sold these? How would he go about finding a designer willing to stoop so low to reproduce them? This wasn't even high quality cotton. This was plebeian wear.

Chloe wriggled again, and, being a generous Devil, he decided to put her out of her misery. Holding her undies aside in a firm grip, he pressed his face between her legs and licked. She keened in surprise at the sudden contact, and he snickered as her hips drove forward until he encircled her thighs with his other arm to hold her steady. 

And then the Devil set to work, falling into the flow of pleasure, the little gasps, the silken salt and sin. He slid his tongue deep inside her and moaned over her taste before dragging his tongue out and down to her aching bundle of nerves. In the past, he would have stopped frequently and asked what she liked, what she _truly desired_ , but there was no educator quite like time itself. Having earned good grades in Chloe Decker 101 some time ago now, he knew quite a lot about what worked and what didn't, and was able to acknowledge his own desires in a way he once could not, to feel whole as he yearned for her, even as he knew he would make them wait for what they both wanted.

"Fuck," Chloe breathed against the floor as he drank her up. 

Eventually, even he grew tired of the knickers and dragged them down her thighs, leaving them to rest at her spread knees. Lucifer leaned back and looked at the vision before him. Sometimes he was still surprised by what he had, in time, grown to think of as his good fortune. After all, this was leaps and bounds better than Hell and even Heaven. And, if a moment like this had to be part of one or the other, he hoped it would become part of Hell, a loop he could live and relive forever, no matter the pain that might come with it.

He ran a thumb through her wetness and dipped inside before running his hand higher. As he pressed his face against her sex once more, he circled his thumb around the puckered flesh above, playing with sensitive nerves. They would need lube for penetration, but a little sensation went a long way, and soon Chloe's fingers clawed at the floor as she cried out, hips jerking, legs trembling. Pressing a wet kiss to her clit, he tilted back to watch the hypnotic twitching of her muscles. 

Lucifer ran his hands down her back and thighs as she eased from her high. Several moments later, she sat up on an arm enough to reach back and grab him through his trousers. He hissed in surprise, enjoying her forwardness, as she twisted at the waist and kissed him. "Come in me?" she said against his wet mouth.

It took everything in Lucifer not to unfurl his wings as he nodded. His hands made quick work of shirt buttons and buckle clasp. He stood briefly, discarding clothes, his gaze holding hers. He liked how she had a tendency to seek out his face and eyes, whereas most before her had found everything below the neck first. Not to say her gaze didn't dip plenty. He'd be worried if it didn't. There was a lot to look at, after all.

"Do you want to stay in this position?" he had enough presence of mind to ask. Barely.

"Is it what you want?"

Oh, dear. They sometimes went in circles. Letting his right hand fall to grip the base of his cock, he searched himself, debating on what he wanted—which was never easy because he liked her any which way. But she did look good with those knickers down about her knees, didn't she? A good girl turned naughty.

"Yes," he decided, and she grinned back at him as he settled behind her once again.

Height differences always presented interesting conundrums in the bedroom—or living area, as it were—but she dipped low, and he spread his legs to shorten his stance, and they made do. At worst, he'd lift her weight and do as he pleased. She rather liked when he did that, anyway. So long as he made no jokes about plowing fields.

He pressed the head of his cock into glistening pink, enjoying the view of her body stretching around him, accepting him, always accepting him. He slid in slow and deep, his left hand curled around her hip, two fingers massaging between her legs, while his right slipped beneath the gaping cotton of his dress shirt to find one of her tragically neglected breasts.

A gentle rhythm grew between them, and grew and grew until it evolved into something hungrier. Chloe dropped to the floor, fully prone, and he crouched above her, his thrusts hard and even. He loosed her hair from its messy bun and tangled it around his fist, drawing her head back so he could kiss her. Back bowed, she gasped and laughed against his tongue.

When she hissed suddenly, he halted, muscles bunching tight. Golden hair slipped from his fingers as he breathed against her ear. "Too deep?" 

"No, just...my hip bones aren't getting along with the floor."

"Right." Leaning over her without breaking their connection, he snagged the edge of a couch cushion with his fingers and dragged it toward them. Snaking an arm beneath Chloe's waist, he hauled her up on her knees. They groaned at the new, awkward position as he shoved the sofa cushion in front of her. "Down you go," he said, grinning, and let her fall forward gently. She landed on her palms and eased her hips onto the cushion. "Better?" he queried, resting a hand between her shoulder blades.

Chloe rolled her hips in reply. "Feels good to me."

That was all the go-ahead he needed. He had to get her back to the precipice she'd been nearing. It had been well over a year since he had been a two-pump chump with her, and he wasn't about to return to that weepy nonsense. There was a strict two orgasm minimum where she was concerned.

But Chloe's mind had wandered.

"We should...probably...get...a towel," she gasped between his thrusts. "These don't...have...removable covers...I can wash." 

Lucifer's face screwed up in confusion as he looked at the back of her head. How could she think of sofa cushions when he was riding her within an inch of her life? "Darling, if you'll stay right where you are," he gasped, "I'll bloody buy you a whole new sofa." Truth be told, this one had seen far too much already. There was a reason he owned a leather sofa that was easy to clean.

Shockingly, the perpetual motion machine buried in Chloe's mind seemed to still, and a few moments later, her breaths turned into moans once again. Her sounds mixed with his until it was hard to know whose pleasure he was hearing. As they worked in tandem, he looked down to where they were joined, at the pink tug of her around his shaft, at the tight star above. Perfect. And she was close, very close, but it had been a long week and he could tell she needed more.

She whimpered when he suddenly pulled away from her body and stood somewhat unsteadily. 

" _Lucifer_ ," she whined, and it took everything in him not to plunge back inside her warmth.

"Just a moment, darling," he sang as he breezed into the kitchen. He returned with the olive oil cruet, which he plunked onto the floor beside her. 

Chloe looked over her shoulder and snorted, following where this was headed. "You know there's lube upstairs."

That this was _all_ she had to say about olive oil as a lubricant was a true testament to how far they had come as a couple. And how often she had come, perhaps.

"Ah, but this was closer," he said, lining himself up with her once more. Grabbing her hips, he yanked her back onto his cock. They both cried out at the motion, and he grinned as she ground against him, helping them find a new rhythm. Sometimes Chloe wasn't that difficult to read at all.

Taking up the cruet once more, he tipped it sideways and drizzled olive oil liberally across her backside, smirking when she complained about how cold it was. He eased in and out of her more slowly as he massaged the oil deep into her skin, gliding it between her cheeks. She had a freckle to the left of her foxhole that matched the beauty spot below her right eye. He wondered if even she knew about it, as he circled his right thumb against her and pressed. She was relaxed, he was pleased to see, and easily took him to the knuckle.

Chloe let out an obscene groan. She liked feeling full, he'd learned, and was often happy to take more, but he was content with seeing her like this for now. He held to her tightly and used the position for additional leverage, dragging her up and down his cock. His head spun with the sight of his body and hands connected so deeply. She was close, but he might be closer, and—

Her hips jerked forward as her muscles contracted around him. She called his name, and it was this, as much as anything else, that dragged him with her. He tumbled over the edge of his pleasure, holding close, his left hand gripping her hip as he spilled into her with a shout. He rode the wave nearly as long as she did, his thrusts short and almost painfully sensitive. The sensation melted over him, leaving him feeling complete as he breathed raggedly and his chin fell to his chest. With a careful tug, he slid his thumb from her, and then he fell forward. It was hardly a choice. 

Chloe wheezed as his weight bared down upon her back, pressing her into the sofa cushion and the hardwood. " _Lucifer_?"

"Mm?" He sniffed her hair. "You smell good," he sighed. "Like honeysuckle and sex."

Her chuckles manifested as shoulder blades poking into his chest as she tried to push him off her. "Can't...breathe."

"Inconvenient." 

She jerked her arm, elbowing his side gently. "Get...off."

"Already did," Lucifer snorted, and he could have sworn he _felt_ her eyes rolling. But he rolled away from her lazily and shivered as his spent cock slipped free from her body. His back smacked against the hardwood, sticky with the sweat that only plagued him when Chloe was near. Eyes closed, he smiled as he heard her shift and a moment later felt her curl into his side. "How was that for a preview?" he asked with a yawn.

Embarrassing what his refractory period was with this woman.

"Not bad," she teased, her breath brushing across his collarbone.

"Not bad," he repeated with a laugh.

"Oily," she added.

"I may have gotten carried away."

Chloe shrugged a shoulder. "I might see if the lieutenant will let me hand this case over to Dan."

Lucifer cracked open an eye as she sat up. They looked at each other, and he grinned. "I like the way you think, Detective." Let the Douche ruin _his_ weekend. Lucifer closed his eyes again, smile still firmly in place. "Wash up and we'll be off, shall we?"

She kissed his cheek. "Should I pack the polka dots?"

"Definitely."


End file.
